


Heartbeat

by Omano



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2015-12-10
Packaged: 2018-05-06 00:23:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5395646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omano/pseuds/Omano
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>"What did you call him, then?"</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <em>“I called him my heart, my beloved, my heartbeat,” Michael murmured softly, but on a voice that no thunder, no sundering Earth could have smothered. “I told you that my love for you makes my heart beat, that you are as important to me as air in your lungs, as blood in your veins.”</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Because Dean Winchester needs to be praised and told how precious he is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heartbeat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [adarksweetness (chayaasi)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chayaasi/gifts).



 

There was something charming about the ebb and flow of the speed as one drove through the country. Miles and miles of flatted black asphalt, fields of green and sand-yellow lands, with sporadically scattered naked trees clawing at the sky, and occasionally a sleepy town on the side just when Dean needed some variety in the view and a reminder to ease his foot on the gas pedal. All of this slipping by them under a steel-grey sky with the promise of a storm that just made everything glow in a strange, sharp, grey-gold hue.

Sam was meditating in the backseat, drifting in and out of conversation.

Michael sat next to Dean; he had deserved the place, and, truth be told, he was far less disturbing up front than in the back. Plus this way Sam couldn’t mess with Dean’s cassettes. The angel’s head was a phantom weight on Dean’s shoulder, its warmth just far away that he could shift gears without trouble.

The low drawl of music and angelic monologue coiled comfortably inside the car. Michael hummed the throaty harsh sounds softly, breathing syllables that were just way out of Dean’s league of vocal capabilities, but despite that, or just thereof maybe, it was soothing, a warmth spreading and thrumming behind Dean’s heart that made him forget the looming chance of a fight over who would shovel off the snow from before the bunker’s entrance.  

Then, rupturing the calm, suddenly Cas appeared on Sam’s lap and immediately turned beat red.

“Hiya, Cas,” Dean greeted. He watched through the rear-view mirror as the two in the backseat awkwardly tried to untangle their legs. “There’s no need to be embarrassed. Everybody knows you love your place on top of Sammy.”

Castiel made a fussy grunt as he finally slipped to the leather seat, cheeks and ears still red, but glare absolutely unamused.

“You are right. And I’m not embarrassed. It’s just,” his gaze skidded to the back of Michael’s head, then immediately turned away. “My timing of arrival was quite unfortunate... Intrusive.

The two Winchesters exclaimed at the same time,

“What?”

“Why?”

“It wasn’t even Ramble on playing,” Sam frowned with a grin.

“Or Traveling Riverside Blues,” interjected Michael innocently.

“Fuck you both.”

“No, it’s not like that,” Cas shook his head, now in slight distress.

“Okay, but will you tell us then _what_?”

A helpless groan pushed the air out of the angel’s lungs. He looked like a puppy that had just been threatened to be thrown outside in the rain to sleep.

“It’s… what Michael… Please don’t make me repeat it.”

“Why? Was he talking dirty to me and I just didn’t understand? Is that it?” Dean shot a glance sideways, but the little smirk curling in the corner of Michael’s lips was as expressive as ever. It was the I know far more than you and I won’t reveal a bit of itTM smirk. Which could mean a thousand different things.

“I can assure you, Dean, you’d need far more than talk about sexual innuendos to make an angel blush,” Michael said.

“What did you call him, then?” asked Sam, now only a moment away from leaning over the backrest, bouncing with excited curiousity.

Michael hummed a soft sound. His eyes turned to look at Dean.

“Many things... The apple of temptation. Gateway to wisdom long-forgotten. Brave soldier, glorious warrior, magnificent, terrible conqueror-”

“Shut up, will you?”

Dean, face on fire, ears and eyes both burning, tried to put a hand over Michael’s mouth. He succeeded, but only for a moment. On the heel of his palm, the tip of his fingers he could feel the smile curl wider, and a kiss pressed to his skin, which, with a low, pathetic little defeated whine had his fingers unfurl and drop to the other hand waiting to take gentle hold and caress Dean’s still-bruised knuckles.

“I called him Angel of the Night Sky, bearer of stars, sharer of blessings without number, beloved by dawn and jealously adored by the sun--”

“You called him _Eoh Monheh_ ,” Castiel blurted, whole face suddenly just as red as Dean’s was.

Michael’s smile softened, his eyes brightened. Dean could feel both - like sunlight touching his very soul.

“I called you my heart, my beloved, my heartbeat,” Michael murmured softly, but on a voice that no thunder, no sundering Earth could have smothered. “I told you that my love for you makes my heart beat, that you are as important to me as air in your lungs, as blood in your veins.”

Dean, foregoing all rules of sanity and logic, and who was he kidding, the road had been swimming in his vision for minutes now, grabbed Michael by the back of his neck and pressed his mouth wherever he could reach glowing warm skin. He clumsily kissed Michael’s cheek, next to his nose before he finally found the archangel’s lips, still lightning sweet with the praise.

Michael hummed another soft note, a period to his hymn, an _amen_ , and so the words _were_. Just like that. They were what they were - the truth.

“Dean!” Sam exclaimed from the backseat, and Dean put his hands back on the wheel just in time for the truck to rush past them with horns blowing, the driver shaking his fist out the window in passing.

While Cas quietly assured Sam that he had nothing to fear, since he was travelling with two angels, Dean looked back at Michael. He would swear that the sun was missing from the grey sky because it had moved beneath his angel’s skin.

There was no way he could ever get used to this reverent, adoring light that shone at his unimportant little self.

It had never been more difficult to put the thought in the usual phrasing.

The words just spoken pressed against his thoughts, curled around his mind and glowed that much brighter that any ingrained, internalised sense of self-loathing, no matter how deep-rooted, seemed impossible and truly blasphemous in their embrace.

“I swear I’ll drive ourselves into a pole if you talk to me like this again!” he huffed.

Michael just put his head on Dean’s shoulder. He could feel the skin prickle with heat under layers of clothes, and the freckles burn, each a star the angel loved to count.

“I talk to you as I please,” Michael said, smug, loving. “You pressed for a translation.”

“Remind me to never do that again.”

“You won’t be happy about it.”

“Whatever.”

Dean made a vow not to ever dive further into learning Angelic.

Although he’ll have to pester Cas, despite his obvious flustered state over the words, to teach him how to pronounce this… _my heart_ -thing. He suspected it would never sound as holy and world-changing as it did flowing from Michael’s lips.

**Author's Note:**

> Eoh Monheh: (ee-oh nuh) [Aeo.] (n): “My Heart” “Beloved”, lit. ‘Pulse’ or ‘heartbeat’. Used as a term of endearment among angels of the same garrison or to those they could not endure without. To call another ‘Eoh Monheh’ implies that it is your love for them that makes your heart beat and they are as vital to you as air. Since angels do not always have physical substance, rarity is presumed. This is an extremely personal and intimate phrase.
> 
> [Source](http://fathersgreatflood.tumblr.com/post/133180567206/updated-angelic-lexicon) if you wouldn't click through the link: this phrase, and all the rest that is in that post were put together by @fathersgreatflood on tumblr from dialects of Akkadian and Syriac, and is (probably) closest to the Angel tongue they use for Dominion. So I know it's not Enochian, but I'll admit here that I was totally lazy to do my research, and I just grew extremely fond of this one. 
> 
> I hope it's no problem that I used it, but I grew to like this so much!


End file.
